


Too Much To Hope

by mellamomuyloco



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellamomuyloco/pseuds/mellamomuyloco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter finally has to face everything he's been avoiding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Much To Hope

A train. Why was he anywhere near a train? Last he knew, he'd been in... and then Harry tried to... and the hand...  
  
Oh.  
  
He was dead.  
  
This was death, this... train station. He assumed that getting on the train meant he would move on to... what? The afterlife? And if he didn't, then what? Would he be a ghost then? Would he have hope of, perhaps, even regaining life?  
  
No, that was too much to hope. That was the story of his life. It was too much to hope that the most popular people he knew would really, truly accept him; too much to hope that they would forgive or at least somewhat understand his stupid transgressions; too much to hope that his new master would spare him; too much to hope _all his life_ that someone would actually see him as something.  
  
But that was all gone. Life was all gone. There was just the train, and if he didn't come to terms with himself, it would leave without him and he'd be marooned on earth to trouble others with his own sins.  
  
No. He needed this, the train and wherever it took him. There was a nobler purpose in it, going to face everyone he had ever wronged, actually looking them in the eyes, and suffering under their harrowing, incriminating collective gaze... and he'd still stand.  
  
He had to.  
  
He didn't deserve mercy, or pity, or anything. He was a despicable person, and was honestly surprised that he still had a soul left at all.  
  
Swallowing hard, he grabbed the edge of the train as it started, weeping bitterly. "That's it. It's done," he whispered, if only to convince himself. "I'm on my way. I've finally--"  
  
 _It's about bloody time, you traitorous coward._  
  
"--stopped running from myself."  
 _  
Maybe I should've kept going._  
  
"And after all, what else is there better--"  
  
 _\--rather, what else is there left--_  
  
"--to be?"


End file.
